The Way That Gravity Pulls (Creek FanFic)

Chapter 18: You're Getting Old

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I'm a good kid. I'm a good kid. I'm a good kid.

It was just before midnight, meaning it was almost curfew for anyone younger than 18, and that they had to be inside. But as soon as Craig had dropped me off and left, I immediately snuck inside past my mom who had been passed out on the couch, grabbed the keys to my dad's store, and left.

For the first time ever, I was out and about, alone.

I'm a good kid. I'm a good kid. I'm a good kid.

They say that sometimes when you're in love, the other person will begin to rub off on you, and soon you'll develop some of their characteristics. But I acted nothing like Craig. Unlike him, I would stay as far away from trouble as I possibly could.

So, why did I do this? Why did I break into my dad's store and steal money?

But, like I said. I'd do anything for Craig.

I'm a good kid. I'm a good kid. I'm a good kid.

I didn't have any idea on how much replacing car interior would cost, so just to get Craig started off, I took 800 dollars out of the safe that we had stored back in the office. (The code's not hard to guess when it's your own birth date.) I also erased that night's security footage and turned every camera off completely. I had to get rid of any evidence that had shown that I had been there that night, because if my mom had found out, I would've been in some serious shit.

As I locked the store back up and hid the money inside of Craig's hoodie that I had somehow forgotten to give back to him again, I kept on reminding myself one thing over and over so that I could stay calm.

I'm a good kid. I'm a good kid. I'm a good kid.

And when I left the store, I should've just gone straight home. But I didn't. Instead my feet lead me in the direction of the gas station, even though my conscience had been screaming at me not to. I should've listened to that voice in my head. I had wanted to buy Craig a pack of cassette tapes, so not only could I surprise him with the cash, but also with a tiny gift. The gas station had been about a 20 minute walk from the store, but the cold made it seem longer as I fought back against the harsh wind. I dashed towards it as soon as I saw it's lights in the distance. I flung the glass doors open, letting the warmth take over me as the smell of hotdogs and chips filled the air. Just as I had mentioned before, cassettes were sold in small packs. Packs of three to be exact, so Craig was just gonna have to find more songs to record.

I brought a pack up to the counter and it rang up for 7.99. It was extremely awkward to ask the guy at the register if he had change for an 100 dollar bill, but thankfully he did. Normally if someone comes into a store with one, you must run it under a machine to see if it's fake or not. (I only know this because of working at the coffee shop.) Luckily for me, only absolute potheads worked at this gas station, so they didn't give a shit.

I thanked the man and took my bag as I stashed away the rest of the money back down into Craig's hoodie. I dreaded the thought of walking back home when it was that chilly out, so I stayed inside for a few more minutes. But as I stood there soaking in the heat, I heard whistling outside and someone yelling out a name. I tried to ignore it as I thought it was just a random cracked-out homeless person, but the more the voice called out, the more familiar it sounded. Of course, my curiosity got the best of me and I walked outside to go look around. I didn't see anyone out in the parking lot nor by the gas pumps, but when I looked over by the dumpster that sat up against the building, I saw Stan Marsh. He looked like an absolute wreck. He had an almost empty bottle of alcohol in one hand, and a dog collar and leash in the other. He hadn't been wearing a jacket, and the front of his shirt was wet from drool and spit. The bottoms of his jeans were soaked from the snow. He was sweating uncontrollably. His straight, thick black hair poked out of his beanie and stuck to his forehead. He struggled to keep his balance as he squinted his eyes at me, trying to figure out who I was. He was drunk as fuck.